Shell Cottage missing moments
by allwaswell23
Summary: Hermione's body reacted in small, pulsating tremors and looked as if she were suffering from an awful muggle fever. Nevertheless, Ron was relieved to hear her respond, even if ever so weakly.
1. The Return

Ron gently placed Hermione's limp form onto the bed in the closest room he could find. He dropped to his knees before her and frantically pushed the hair from her face. "Hermione? Hermione, please!" She stirred, moaning groggily, shifting her head slightly. Ron could tell she was in pain but did not have the means to express it fully. Her body reacted in small, pulsating tremors and looked as if she were suffering from an awful muggle fever. Nevertheless, Ron was relieved to hear her respond, even if ever so weakly. "Yes, that's it! Open your eyes, Hermione, please!"

Ron felt Hermione's chest rise as she inhaled deeply, seemingly holding the air in her lungs far too long. Suddenly she threw her body forward, sitting up. Her eyes were wide and frantic and she clawed desperately for something stable, a leftover fight or flight instinct. Ron jumped at her sudden movement. "HERMIONE!" He shouted, using his broad shoulders to wrap around her struggling form. She beat against him, still unaware of her location or circumstance. "HERMIONE! WE'RE SAFE!"

She gathered all she could muster to punch him pathetically, all the while mumbling slurred attempts of speech.

"HERMIONE. HERMIONE. YOU'RE OKAY, YOU'RE ALRIGHT!" He felt her muscles loosen as her brain struggled to compute his words. Ron never loosened his grip on her. Hermione eyes were open but Ron knew they were not seeing. As exhaustion overtook her, she gave up her attempt at harming him. He felt her become heavy in his arms and she began to sob. It was the most sobering sound Ron had ever heard. Hermione's cries were desperate and deep. They echoed throughout the house and beyond, filled with the anguish of the last few minutes and the last few years.

Ron laid her back onto the pillow, still not letting her go. He whispered words he couldn't recall if he tried and rubbed his hand comfortingly up and down until her sobs subsided and she drifted to sleep. When he was sure she was sleeping deeply he pulled his body from hers. He took in the sight of her; dried blood in a straight line on her perfect neck, a row of bruises on her collar bone that extended Merlin knows how far down her body. Ron stood to fetch a washcloth. He tenderly cleaned Hermione's neck and lightly kissed her bruise, not really sure of what else to do. In the silent house Ron's adrenaline was replaced with a sudden, overwhelming headache. His temples felt as if they would burst with pain and his spinal cord as if it would vibrate to pieces. Fleur would be in soon, once Harry was deemed okay and she would fetch them both pain tonics. Until Hermione had some, Ron wouldn't dare take anything. Once again on his knees before Hermione's bed, Ron rested his head on the soft mattress, an inch from Hermione's hip. He wanted to call out to someone, anyone to hear if Harry was alright but his body wouldn't respond. His thoughts couldn't process anything but Hermione right now. Ron put Hermione's small hand in his and lost himself in the sound of her breathing, staring at the wall, staring into nothingness.


	2. Healing

Shell Cottage 2

Hermione stirred. She heard rough screaming and explosions, although she wasn't sure if they were in the distance or in her memory. Where was she? Her eyes flew open and she let out a tiny gasp, propping herself up onto her elbow. She didn't recognize her surroundings but they projected a homey, secure feeling onto her. A movement below her grabbed her attention and she noticed Ron, snoring softy. His body was propped up against her bed and his red hair draped over Hermione's arm. She went to shake him awake, wanting more than ever to see his face but was immediately stopped. Her arm felt as if a million pins had been stuck into it. She gasped between clenched teeth and plummeted back onto the pillow. "Ron?" she squeaked out. He didn't move. She took a deep breath. "RON." She called quickly but desperately.

He mumbled and lifted his head slowly, then, realizing where he was he sprung to attention. "Hermione! Merlin!" He rose and sat next to her sore body. She winced at the tiny movement, clearly unsure of where her pain was originating.

"Where…" her breathing was labored.

"We're at Bill and Fleur's house." He spoke softly, clearing her hair from her face.

"But…how did we….I can't remember…anything." Her forehead crinkled in confusion.

"Shhhh. We'll talk about that later. We're safe for now, we need to get you fixed up and rested."

Her eyes widened as she spotted the nasty gashes Ron had on his arms and wrists from a few hours prior. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine, Hermione. We need to get a look at you. I'm sure Fleur has something to help with the pain." Ron once again leaned in to examine the cut on Hermione's neck.

"And Harry?" Hermione remembered desperately, more and more of the day's events flooding back to her.

"Fine." Ron considered telling her about Dobby but she wouldn't have even known he was there. He had a lot to catch her up on but now was not the time. Now Hermione needed to get sorted and comfortable. "Where does it hurt the most?" He asked, speaking assertively but looking quite unsure of himself. Hermione lifted the arm she tried to lay on just moments before. Ron gently took it and felt a large bump in her skin. Hermione inhaled loudly and a few tears snuck out of her eyes. Ron was all too familiar with this injury. Growing up with five older, backyard-quidditch-loving brothers, injuries were a daily occurrence. "It's broken." He announced. "Easy to fix up, though."

At her new angle Ron was able to see that the line of bruises forming on Hermione had blanketed her collar bone and continued down under her shirt. He lifted her collar to get a better look. Hermione sat unfazed by his touch, trying to focus on a single point in the room and not on the pain.

"We need to get you out of these clothes." Ron began. He thought of the chandelier falling on her small frame, now amazed that she was even alive. He could only imagine what her body went through as Bellatrix tortured her for information. He certainly never wanted to think of her screams again. "You need to be checked. I just want to be sure you aren't bleeding anywhere else or have any other breaks. You may have glass in you too."

With Ron's help, Hermione braced herself before lifting to a sitting position, her feet touching the floor. She wanted to ask what had happened, but she didn't have the strength.

"Dammit." Hermione cursed under her breath. Her eyes rolled up a little at the pain coursing through her.

"I know. I know. I'm so sorry Hermione." He held her shoulders steady, careful not to touch her bruises, but unsure of where else to touch her; of where else she may be injured. "I'll go get Fleur, she can help you get undressed and have a look at you, okay?" He gave her a squeeze and started for the door.

"Ron?" She spoke, barely audible.

"Yea?" He stopped.

"Can you…help me?" She choked out. "I don't want…you to go." A few more tears escaped. Ron could tell she was frustrated at her struggle to speak. She motioned toward her lungs as an explanation for her strain. Ron knew what was happening there. She had screamed her lungs raw. He doubted she remembered and he wasn't about to remind her.

He crossed the distance between them in a few short strides and knelt before her. "Are you sure?" He asked quietly. He didn't want to leave her either, in fact he would have waited just outside the room for his own sanity, but he didn't want Hermione to be uncomfortable in front of him. He looked her in the eyes and saw no hesitation, only need. She nodded her head in response and he spoke. "Alright." Ron rose and placed a small, light kiss on her forehead, one of the few places left intact, so far as he could tell. He pulled out a wand that Hermione didn't recognize and pointed it at her arm. "Ready?" She nodded. He knew this was for her own good. "Episkey."

There was a small popping noise as the bump on Hermione's arm sucked itself back in place. She groaned and grasped the area, wriggling her lower body in response. She propped her head up in the crook of Ron's shoulder, trying not to pass out. Ron spoke soothingly, and eventually her breathing slowed and her vision came back to her.

"Do you think you can stand?" She nodded hesitantly. "Alright," Ron began and allowed Hermione to push herself against his body until she was fully upright. Ok, Mione. Let's have a look at you. Diffindo." He spoke, tracing an imaginary line down the center of her shirt, watching as it tore open. It hung loosely down her front now and Ron hesitated before reaching for it.

"Ron…" Hermione managed, willing her voice to portray the gratitude she was feeling for him. Her brain was racing with a dozen reasons why he she wouldn't mind him removing her clothes, both platonic and unplatonic in nature. All she knew was at this moment she was drained of everything except the need for Ron to be healthy and be near her. She wasn't going to deny Ron that same need if that's what he was feeling as well. She spoke again. "It's alright…it's me…and you."

He looked into her eyes and his hands went to discard her now-ruined shirt. He let his eyes linger on hers for a moment before trailing them down. He felt sick at the sight of her collarbone bruise which became puffy and expanded down to her belly button. Ron's eyes traveled over Hermione's once-white bra, now dirtied with sweat and blood. His fingers danced over a few spots above her hip bone where several tiny shards of glass had gotten lodged. Hermione winced at the touch and looked down to find the source of the pain.

"Carpe Retractum" Ron said as the shards wiggled their way free of Hermione's skin and into Ron's hand. She yelled out in pain, her voice sounding as if she were drowning. "I'm sorry, Hermione." He wrapped his arms around her, planting a tender kiss on her hair. She allowed him to hold her up, focusing her thoughts on Ron's heartbeat, until the stinging sensation died out. Ron circled to Hermione's back, looking relieved to see that, other than some intense bruises, the area was unscathed. He stepped in front of her again and placed his palms on her ribcage, applying pressure to check for breaks. So far so good. "You're doing fantastic, Hermione," he offered.

Hermione reached for the button on her jeans, thankful her arm was back to normal. She pulled her pants down and stepped slowly out of them, using Ron's forearm as a stabilizer. She had never felt so much pain at once. It was as if every muscle in her body was enraged and screaming at her for relief. As Ron knelt in front of her, inspecting every inch of her legs she felt her confidence breaking down. Ron removed a few other pieces of glass. Hermione had a sudden, overwhelming sense of inadequacy. She felt dirty and exhausted and nothing like she wanted to feel if and when Ron first saw her in her underwear. Her body was depleted from all rational thought and she began to quietly cry. Her lungs screamed in protest as she pushed air in and out in halting breaks. Her heart told her that her thoughts were illogical but her brain didn't have enough sustenance to persuade her otherwise.

"What is it? Hermione?" Ron's arms were around her in a heartbeat, leading them back to the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I hope I didn't….make you feel…." He stammered, clearly mortified at the thought of her upset at his actions.

Hermione could barely open her eyes as she mustered the strength to speak. "No, Ron." She wiped at her face. "I just…didn't want it to be…like this. I look a mess and you probably think…" She stumbled over her words, trying to explain. "It's deplorable that I'm even…feeling this way, right now. …for some reason…I… I just…want you to think…I'm…" she couldn't finish. Embarrassment and shame coupled with fatigue wouldn't allow her to continue.

Ron lifted her chin so they were looking at each other. "Beautiful?" Ron guessed and Hermione nodded, tears falling onto her bare legs. Ron's mouth lifted into a tiny smile. He couldn't help it. Now that he had seen for himself that she would be okay he felt okay smiling. "Hermione…look at me."

She wiped frantically at her face and looked into his blue eyes. "You are beautiful. Merlin, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, Hermione. I just had to know for myself that you were okay, that everything was alright. I'm so glad you're alive." He paused to collect himself as he felt the tears well up in his eyes. His voice was quivering with emotion as he continued, "And, when this whole bloody mess is over with I want to see you again, wearing this much… so I can properly make you feel as beautiful as you are."

A tearful laugh escaped Hermione despite her painful lungs. "Ok?" Ron asked. Hermione nodded and watched Ron cross the small room to the dresser, pulling out a small dressing gown. He helped her into it and tucked her under the covers. "I'm going to fetch some tonic for the pain."

"Thanks, Ron." Within the hour, Hermione and Ron were both sound asleep. Hermione lay tucked in bed and Ron in the arm chair which he dragged over to be next to her.


	3. Oceanside

Shell Cottage 3

The next few days passed too quickly. Ron felt heavy, as if he had slept only an hour or so. The house was eerily quiet even during the day. Nobody wanted to talk about much of anything. At night the unfamiliar sound of the ocean's waves attracted much of Ron's attention, keeping him from sleep. He was haunted by flashes of the falling chandelier; images of its impact upon Hermione's small frame. The memory of her screams regularly ripped him from his sleep, sweat-covered and heaving. Hermione made progress but was clearly frustrated at her pace. Much to her dismay, Ron tried to keep her from doing too much too soon. She angrily told him she wasn't fragile to which he responded "yes you are". Perhaps she was too tired to argue further because she reluctantly spent most of the last forty-eight hours sitting up in bed, gazing out the tiny window toward the sea. She seemed to be focused on something although her eyes were completely still. It was a chilling sight for Ron who couldn't help but wonder about Neville's parents, locked away in St. Mungo's forever. Did they carry the same distant stare? He offered to find a few of Fleur's books but Hermione kindly refused.

Ron groaned loudly as he sat up in the uncomfortable armchair. He must have dozed off. He twisted and turned to crack his bones and was surprised to see Hermione awake and in generally the same position. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

"How you feeling?" He asked gently, his voice heavy from rest. She didn't respond, only closed her eyes tightly. Ron pulled her into his arms, tucking her into his safe hug. "I've got you."

She didn't speak for several minutes and Ron wondered if she had fallen asleep. Without warning her quiet voice broke the silence. "Will you walk with me?"

He sighed. "Hermione, I'm not sure if…"

"Please," she spoke into his arm, "I need to get out of the house for a while."

Ron helped her back into her now cleaned and repaired clothes and the pair made their way down to the beach. He could smell the salt invading his nose. "You're doing really well." He offered her, encouragingly. She had laced her fingers through his and kept her other hand on his elbow for extra support but, for the most part, was holding her own weight and wasn't struggling with their moderate pace. Ron breathed a bit easier. The wind howled roughly in his ears and so he almost didn't notice her asking to stop at a large, smooth rock. She looked beautiful with the ocean breeze dancing in her hair. If she hadn't been so weakened he would definitely try and kiss her right now. Definitely. Instead he offered her hand a small squeeze and she smiled at him.

"We should talk."

Ron's heart sank. Every man was weary of those words. "What about?"

She looked at him obviously; her big brown eyes steady on his own.

"Hermione, there's not much to say."

"Are you struggling with it?" She asked. She almost died, she was still recovering and yet she was still so…Hermione. He didn't answer. "I heard you waking up last night."

Ron ran his hands through his hair roughly. He did not want to talk about it, he knew that much. Talking about what was looping through his head continuously would require reminding Hermione of the monstrosities of what she endured and he refused to do that to her. But she looked at him as if she wanted nothing more than to hear his version of things. Dammit. He sighed loudly.

"How did you do it, Mione?" He asked, his voice breaking. He cleared his throat.

"Do what?"

"How did you stay so brave? The things she did to you…" Ron stood, pacing.

"I…I wasn't brave, honestly. I don't remember _trying_ to be brave. I'd like to tell you I was thinking of the mission, of the bigger picture but…" her breath hitched and she let out a small, desperate cry. Ron stopped pacing and knelt in front of her, placing his hands on her arms. He looked up at her face, crunched up with emotion. She continued, the tears falling from her eyes. "For some reason I could hear _you_ in my head." Ron's heart stopped momentarily. He couldn't remember what his reaction had been that night. His actions were a lost memory, swept up by the visions and sounds of Hermione in danger. Harry had told him yesterday of how he had yelled for Hermione non-stop. Ron realized this must have been the voice she heard. Hermione continued, "I thought the longer that I stayed alive, the longer I could distract them from hurting you." Ron felt his own tears now and he pulled Hermione into a crushing hug. Between sobs she persisted. "I knew once she killed me that she'd move on to you. I…I heard her say it. So, I held on as long as I could for you."

He squeezed her tighter, willing his tears to stop but it was no use. Ron felt his breath spike and labor as he dampened her hair. "And then, I woke up and…and I saw you and I was so sure we had died and…for a second…that maybe we ended up together in some sort of afterlife and it wouldn't be so bad. Sounds silly now, I s'pose."

Before he could stop himself, Ron placed a few small kisses on her collar bone. "It's not silly, it's brilliant. You're brilliant. I wish I could be more like you, Mione. I want to be brave but I keep hearing that night in my head. I keep seeing you laying there and…it scares the shit out of me each time."

"I'm sorry." She said sadly.

He lifted his head from her neck. "No. Don't you dare tell me you're sorry." He paused for a moment, his arms running shakily up and down her back. "I didn't know you heard me get up last night. I'll be sure to sleep in downstairs tonight so I don't wake you."

"No." She choked. "No, I like having you there. I don't care if I wake up."

He nodded, grateful. "I just…I felt so helpless when they took me away from you. It was the worst I've ever felt in my whole life. At night it's worse. I keep reliving it in my head. Maybe if I just had done something…"

"Like what?"

"Anything!"

"Ron, there was nothing you could have done. All we can do now is be grateful that we've made it."

"That's just it, Hermione. Have we?" He pulled back to look at her. "I know I'm supposed to say that this will all be worth it, that any sacrifice would be worth it but…I almost lost you yesterday and… nothing it the world would make that better." He was almost sobbing now and for some reason, Hermione had stopped crying all together. He was beginning to think the two of them shared some natural duty to be strong while the other was weak. He watched as her knees dropped to the sand below her, mirroring his own stance. He wanted to tell her he was in love with her. He could feel the words dancing on the tip of his tongue.

"I'm not sure what to say." Hermione groaned. "Thank you, for sure. You're the reason I'm alright. You saved me from the manor and you're keeping me from going insane right now." She smiled as best she could. She settled awkwardly in his lap, listening to the patter of his tears on her head.

"I just can't believe we made it, that you're alright and we made it. I'm afraid someone will tell me this isn't real; that you aren't real."

"I'm real, Ron."

Ron watched the ocean over her back and suddenly realized why Hermione had been so transfixed by it over the past two days. The ocean was huge, and he and Hermione sat on the edge of it as tiny and insignificant as could be. Yet, if needed, they could cross it. By broom, apparition, by Muggle boats or planes. Whatever it took to conquer it. For the smallest of seconds Ron knew they'd be alright.


End file.
